


if we were a movie (hannah montana, 2006)

by removedhergrace



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Meet-Cute, movie theater AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-02-23 05:48:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13183641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/removedhergrace/pseuds/removedhergrace
Summary: If asked under oath, Auston would answer with confidence and conviction that he would rather turn up the volume on the newest episode of the Steve Dangle Podcast and hide in theater nine than answer the radio call for assistance in concessions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is not a hannah montana au, but I did listen to roughly three hours of hannah montana classics while I wrote this truly indulgent fic -- all movies correspond to the last time I worked at a movie theater [which was dec ‘16/jan ‘17] and the stupidly specific after-credit scene knowledge I still have about that season

If asked under oath, Auston would answer with confidence and conviction that he would rather turn up the volume on the newest episode of the Steve Dangle Podcast and hide in theater nine than answer the radio call for assistance in concessions. A calculation of how long it would take to run out money for rent if he lost this job squashed the internal rebellion in under a minute, leading Auston out of the theater and towards the front concession stand. Auston keyed into the back scullery and pushed through the swinging door to the front sales stand where he found Willy, alone and sliding over the front counter.

“Thank fuck Aus, I have to piss so badly and Zach still isn’t back from his break,” Willy yelled back, already halfway across the lobby. Understaffed Wednesday nights rarely saw weekend level foot traffic, but a single customer looking for their overpriced popcorn while someone slipped into the restroom was an easy way to lose employee movie pass privileges, the only true perk of theater employment. 

Auston chuckled and settled back against the counter, thumbing his phone out of his pocket to check the Yotes score, deeming the game too depressing for a late night rewatch after his shift. Willy returned to concessions just as Zach clocked back in from break, releasing Auston to finish replacing now-showing posters in the front hallway and lurking in theater entrances until the patrons left and he could clean. 

The rest of Auston’s shift passed without note. The 10:15 pm showing of Moana let out at 12:05 am, the last clean of a dull, eventless shift. On busier days, an usher marked movies with low attendance as theaters that could be skipped when it came time to clean, but on slow days when Auston could float between locations and leave the front podium, he erred on the side of caution and checked all theaters before clocking out. 

Auston heard the sound of the credits blare from the door of theater 6. Moana finished with songs from the soundtrack accompanied by more animation; it was easier to clean while the credits ran than say, a horror movie that played jumpscare music from the film in the poorly lit theater. 

Expecting a cleared house, Auston walked up the hallway of the theater and popped his head around the corner, broom in hand, when he caught sight of a silhouette seated halfway up the theater. A single patron remained in the credits of Moana, at 12:00am on a Thursday morning. Auston considered turning on the cleaning lights and ushering the person out, but thought back to his screening of the film with his two sisters when he was home for winter break the week before. Neither of them having found employment at a theater, his sisters enjoyed movie-going and would have thrown a fit if someone interrupted their screening of Moana, even the end credits (their first of three, including streamed viewings at Christmas). Auston could wait…

… for about five minutes. The end of credits scene rolled straight into the cast and crew listings. To Auston’s sleep deprived brain, the long day of classes and work compounded the short wait into years. Still, the person did not leave. While he could receive a complaint from asking someone to leave the theater before the credits ended, he resented whoever occupied the theater. Auston pictured them learning the names of whoever did each panel of animation as the credits rolled, rather than letting Auston finish work and go home. ‘Couldn’t they like, google it or something, if they were that invested?’ he thought, working himself into annoyance. 

When the full credits came to an end, the sudden lack of sound startled Auston from his half-asleep brooding. He picked up the broom leaning against the wall and reentered the main theater to address the last customer. 

“Hey, not to be rude but the movie’s over and we need to clean so -” found himself cut off by a choked out sob from person in the center row. Unsure how to proceed, he found himself taking the theater steps two at a time until he reached edge of the middle row. 

“Or uh, fuck, okay, hey man you’re okay. Take a deep breath” Auston hurried out, leaving the broom at the end of the row and moving in towards the person’s seat. Seated in the center of the theater was a man who looked to be about Auston’s age, body shaking with sobs, clutching a medium soda in one hand, face buried in his other. Auston settled in next to him, placing a tentative hand on his back, rubbing in slow circles. After a minute or two, when the sobs reduced to quiet sniffling, Auston finally willed himself to speak.

“Not to like, over step or pressure you or whatever but are you okay?” Auston asked, voice tentative. 

The man nodded, wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his henley. Auston waited for a response, but after a beat of silence spoke again.

“Okay, hey that’s great that you’re fine, but also we’re closing?” he cut off, shaking his head at the question in his voice. “Yeah, we’re closing and like no offense but you’re literally the last person here.”

This startled a chuckle out of the guy, the first non-crying sound he had made since Auston entered the theater. Auston barely acknowledged the sense of relief he felt, chalking it up to his interest in getting home as soon as he could. 

“Shit, this is on brand for me, guy closes down theater, crying to soft Disney princess movie alone on a Wednesday,” the stranger mumbled, face still half obscured by his hands. He finally looked up, meeting Auston’s eyes with his own bloodshot ones. Auston thought he recognized the man from around campus, but before he could ask the customer spoke again. 

“I really am fine, just emotional cause of the holidays, you know? And I’m here on an assignment of sorts and now I’m crying all over your theater...” as he trailed off, his last sentence brightened his face for a moment before he settled again.

The stranger lifted his hand, pausing for a moment to wipe tear residue on his jeans before meeting Auston’s gaze once more. 

“I’m Mitch, the chronic cryer, and I will absolutely be getting out of your hair now.” He punctuated his sentence by gathering his cup of soda from the ground and snagging his coat off of the back of his seat. 

“Thanks for like, cleaning and also making sure I wasn’t dying,” Mitch said, as he stood to exit the row. 

Auston grimaced as he turned to walk back to where he left the broom. 

“Dude, we have to call a paramedic in here at least once a month. It was just good to confirm that you were moved by the power of like, love and the ocean rather than a health crisis.”

This startled a laugh from Mitch, to which Auston replied, “Yeah yeah I work at a theater and I have two sisters who are bullies and should never have this much power. I’ve seen Moana three times.” Auston turned back, catching the end of Mitch’s reaction, a blinding smile that heavily contrasted his tear stained cheeks. Auston chose not to examine the warm feeling he felt spread in his chest at the turn in Mitch’s demeanor.

Mitch slipped past Auston onto the next slower step and smiled back at Auston for a moment, a soft thing that seemed more settled and natural on Mitch’s features.

“Well, thanks again dude. I’ll let you get back to kicking out the rest of us late night theater deliquinits.” 

“Again, just you,” Auston called back. 

As Mitch exited the theater, Auston shook his head, uninterested in replaying this particular occurrence and his reactions until he had at least eight hours of sleep, three cups of coffee, or both. Auston climbed to the top of the theater to scan for trash and discarded 3-D glasses. He zoned out for long enough that Mitch’s return into the theater startled him more than he’d like to admit. 

“Oh, wow sorry. I realized I never got your name and like, it’s super rude to cry all over someone’s theater seats and not thank him properly.”

Auston fought the blush forming on his cheeks, pretending that the eyebrow waggle that accompanied Mitch’s offer of a proper thank-you was a trick on his sleep deprived, popcorn butter glazed eyes. He would have to talk to Willy about putting too much butter in the machine and fucking up the air quality.

“Oh uh, it’s fine. And it’s Auston, my name is Auston,” he stuttered back, in what was easily the least articulate sentence he had ever formed. ‘Overtired, I’m just overtired’ Auston repeated internally. 

“Cool, well I’m about to miss the last bus, so I’ve got to run and you’ve got to close this place down. Thanks again, Auston” Mitch said, pausing for a moment before jogging back down the carpeted hallway towards the lobby. 

Auston scrubbed at his eyes for a moment, collected the broom and exited the theater. Someone on the morning shift could check for remaining trash before they opened. 

****

When Auston showed up for his shift at the theater the next Wednesday, Mitch bought a ticket for the 8:30 pm showing of Sing. That Friday, Mitch saw a matine of Silence, taking multiple bathroom breaks throughout the film that he attributed to his large soda, to which Auston responded that it surely couldn’t be related to the slow paced monk torture film Mitch was sitting through. The following Wednesday, Mitch returned again, bag in hand like he had come straight from a class. 

Mitch stopped Auston in the hallway as he exited theater three, coming back from checking on a volume complaint. 

“Hey, Auston!” Mitch called, turning the corner from podium to come down the hallway. Ticket stub in hand, Mitch skidded to a stop in front of Auston, the two of them alone in the theater hallway. 

“So uh, I was thinking,” Mitch started, sounded affected by whatever he was about to say. “I was thinking that like, because I’ve been around a lot and like, so have you…” Mitch paused again, looking up at Auston through his eyelashes.

To Auston, the look on Mitch’s face was a mix of Willy when he bribed the staff to cover his shifts and surprisingly, Auston’s Mom when she would pull off a particular leading question into her children’s lives. Auston cut Mitch off before he could start again. 

“Yeah, I mean I’m here a lot for work. But you said that you were too, right?” Auston asked.

“Ah, uh wait for work?” Mitch echoed.

Auston nodded. “When you were here the time you were, uh, the time you saw Moana? You said you were on assignment?” 

Mitch looked confused for a moment before the wrinkle above his brow smoothed out. Auston was obviously more overtied than he knew, because there was no other reason he would have reflexively wanted to smooth out Mitch’s forehead with a hand. Being startled out of a sleep deprived induced daydream seemed to be a reoccurring theme with Mitch. 

“Oh, right! Yeah I uh, I write for a newspaper at my college,” Mitch said, evening out his voice from a questioning tone to a confident statement by the end of his phrase. 

Auston nodded. He thought he had recognized Mitch from campus, but would admit that he rarely read the school’s paper. 

“Hey, that’s cool. Are you writing about movies?” Auston asked.

Mitch nodded his head.

“Yep, reviewing movies. Working on my writing and like, consolidating long shit into word limits and print writing, stuff like that,” Mitch rambled. “So yeah, I’ll be here a lot for my writing assignments. And you seemed cool with like, me crying on you and all of that and I was hoping we could hang out if we’re both going to be here a lot?” 

Auston found himself agreeing before he had the chance to fully process the request.

“That’s cool, it’s usually slow on weekdays anyway so there’s less for me to do when I’m here.” 

Mitch smiled with what resembled relief in his features, reaching out to pull Auston into a hug.

“Dude, this is like so great! I love movies and now we’re gonna be friends and shit, too.” 

Auston laughed, bright and startled at the sudden embrace. Between school and work, Auston often neglected his social life outside of his housemates. While hanging out while he was at work was less than ideal, since the first night that he met Mitch, Auston could admit that he had thought about Mitch a lot, hoping to catch sight of him on campus and enjoying their short interactions when Mitch came in to see a movie. 

Auston peeled out of the hug, placing an arm around Mitch’s shoulder, curving the broom into his other hand.

“Well, if you’re so eager to hang with the chill theater guy, you can improve my chill by helping me clean the next theater.” 

Mitch squawked behind Auston who was already halfway down the hallway, pushing the garbage barrel through the door of theater two. This would make work more tolerable, at least. 

****

Looking back, with Mitch plastered to his side, sweaty from the press of bodies and cheeks flushed red from alcohol, Auston swore that it was never his intention to become this involved. A healthy level of denial could mask those initial, physical reactions to Mitch’s smile and his laugh, but as Auston curved his hand down from the top of Mitch’s head where he had been scratching lazily at his hair, he caught Mitch’s eye.

Both of them froze, following the trajectory of Auston’s hand as it trailed down Mitch’s face to settle against his neck, palming the side of his face, thumb resting on the edge of Mitch’s lips. Mitch blinked twice, eyes clouded with exhaustion and then darted his tongue out to touch Auston’s thumb.

When Mitch sucked Auston’s thumb into his mouth, impossibly gentle in its warm heat, Auston dropped his head back onto the couch for a moment before meeting Mitch’s eyes again. As he took in Mitch, mouth moving around Auston’s thumb before releasing it with a pop, Auston had but a moment to contemplate his life choices before bringing their mouths together. 

After only a moment, Mitch broke the kiss with a sigh, dropping his head to Auston’s shoulder to mouth at this collarbone exposed by the loose neck of Auston’s t-shirt. He mumbled something against his neck that Auston couldn’t catch, too distracted to seek clarification. 

Auston idly wondered if he could get Mitch to agree to a repeat performance in theater three the next week when Mitch spoke again.


	2. Chapter 2

To say that Mitch was, among other things, royally fucked would be an understatement. In the three weeks since he declared his movie-going-friendship intentions with Auston, he spent approximately four nights a week at the theater. Dylan’s horrified expression upon hearing that on one Tuesday, Mitch hadn’t even seen a movie and helped Auston clean theaters, should have been the first of many warning signs.

Auston embodied everything that drew Mitch to new people. His wit stung, subtle and understated, caused Mitch to duck behind doors to avoid laughing during Auston’s laborious conversations with frustrating customers. He was kind, spoke often and highly of his family, and upon further investigation was terrible at video games and singing, though he partook in both frequently.

Mitch, finding himself on a speed course to full initiation into usher-concessionist culture, found himself roped into a group chat with Auston and his co-workers, Willy and Zach, in their quest to find the best iPhone game that also could run given the theater’s terrible reception. The mini-tournament to claim the title of best ‘Ballz’ player was, as Mitch described to Dylan and Connor one evening, the most brutal game he had ever played. 

The dynamic between Auston and Mitch, however, was carefully crafted within the within the constraints of the theater. Everpresent was the the continual ability to duck into a showing if things felt strained, which while neither of them had opted to use it thus far, was one Mitch was interested in moving outside of. The problem standing in his way was of his own creation, an invisible barrier that Mitch was hesitant to break. 

“You fucking what?” Dylan mumbled, mouthful of cereal dulling his indignation. 

“I know, I know, I’m an idiot, and three weeks is far too long to spend time with someone without being like, oh, hey, I’ve actually been lying about why I’ve been here. Want to get drinks?” 

Dylan rolled his eyes, draining his coffee before moving his dishes to the sink. 

“Seriously, dude. Why did you even tell him you were reviewing movies for the school’s paper? You’ve read that thing like twice and that was only because we were using it to transport alcohol freshman year.” 

Mitch pinched the bridge of his nose, annoyance at his own actions and Dylan’s antics making the conversation reach unbearable levels. 

“I tried to make some shitty joke to cut the tension when he found me literally sobbing in that theater, and like, my mom did tell me that I had to get out of the house under threat of harm, so I was gonna link it back to that, but before I could clarify he just assumed. Also, infinitely less embarrassing to tell this hot guy that I’m there for work instead of the like, because my mom thinks I’m lonely.”

“Marns,” Dylan drawled, draping himself across Mitch’s back. “One, you’re always a little pathetic, so if you’re trying to pull the hot usher then you need to embrace that.” 

Dylan continued over Mitch’s offended scoff. 

“Two, if you’re interested in like, actually making a move, you’re gonna need to clear the air as soon as possible. Like, talk about creepy. My potential hook-up lied to get me alone at my job that keeps me in a building, late at night, that I can’t leave until he does.” 

Mitch groaned, slumping lower into the table, fully blanketed by Dylan. 

“I know I need to tell him, but at this point I think I could just say that my assignment is over or something? Plus, I didn’t recognize him so I don’t think he goes to our campus. If I can wait this out, there’s no reason he would know I lied and we can like, restart something where I see him outside of his job.”

****

“So.”

Auston blinked, face impassive. 

“So?” 

“So,” Jack smirked, “how does it feel to be getting paid to flirt with the world’s scrawniest boy?” 

As if on instinct, Auston bit out a clipped “Hey, he’s not-” before fully turning to see Jack and Charlie, laughing, leaned against the door to theater five. 

It was not, Auston would admit, ideal to have them drop in to see a movie during an evening with Mitch. Mitch, at the theater for a matine of Passengers, hung around to accompany Auston for what otherwise had been a slow Tuesday shift. Jack and Charlie’s arrival coincided with a less than graceful exit from Mitch, who suddenly remembered a deadline and had taken off for the parking lot. 

“Nah dude, I’m just saying, like this is ideal for you. You’ve complained about work much less lately which was, suspicious, given that you’ve been staying later.” 

Charlie nodded, flicking a piece of popcorn at Auston before adding, “You just have to tell us which theaters you’ve fucked in so we can be mindful of the cleanliness. I know you’re not that good at your job.” 

Auston took a steadying breath over Charlie and Jack’s laughter, to keep himself calm, and to avoid spewing more embarrassing fodder for them. Nothing would have been worse, given their assumption about the situation, than to acknowledge that not only was Mitch there for something school related, but that he had expressed zero interest in Auston over the last three weeks. 

****

Mitch was inordinately calm for nearly running into his second semester freshman year PE requirement nemesis (Mitch had taken rec hockey seriously). This small detail, regardless of Dylan and Connor incessant teasing about a grudge gone on long enough, was concerning only for the fact that Jack embraced Auston with the casual intimacy of a close friend. Whenever Auston did or didn’t take classes, he knew people in Mitch’s year.

After shooting off a quick ‘lmao auston knows eichs so uh,,,,This Is A Problem?’ text to Dylan, Mitch rested his head against his steering wheel, contemplating sweet, sweet death, before pulling up a list of tomorrow’s showtimes on his phone. He was, he would admit, in too deep. 

****

“Off off off off” Mitch chanted, working furiously at Auston’s buttons. Like, the audacity of him to wear something so complicated to remove at a frat party was, in Mitch’s mind, unbelievable, but he couldn’t deny that he appreciated the ways that the rolled sleeves of the plaid button-up accentuated Auston’s arms. The way that his teeth lightly scraped Mitch’s adam's apple before latching onto his neck and working on a healthy sized bruise also helped to make their transition from frat basement couch to upstairs bathroom an easy one. 

“Impatient much?” Auston joked, pushing Mitch’s sweaty hair off his forehand, watching his handiwork. His expression changed from annoyed to desire as Mitch retaliated, pinching a nipple before returning to the task at hand. 

While saying it was a moment he had only dreamed about was an exaggeration, he never imagined that they would reach this point so soon, an off-hand invitation to a party (‘you made us practice the conversation where you invite him to the party with you five times, Marns’ Dylan sighed) culminating in a frenzied release of the tension that had been building for over a month between them.

Mitch didn’t think he imagined strained exhale from Auston, finally freed from his shirt, as Mitch backed Auston up to the sink and knelt down between his spread legs.

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is welcomed & encouraged, thanks for reading


End file.
